Bay Area, Arasaka Industrial Park in Oakland.
Beside the Life Sciences Institute stood the Rehabilitation and Recovery Center.
Inside the surgical department, a high-security operation was being prepared.
"Wake him up."
"Hai!"
In a daze, David Martinez heard the sound of many people talking.
He slowly woke up, confusion clouding his thoughts as he tried to recall what had happened.
He wanted to speak, but his whole body felt weak and sluggish. When he tried to open his eyes, everything doubled before him.
All the people in white coats stood with their backs to him, bowing slightly, as if reporting to someone.
"Ma'am, he's awake."
"Hmm. Let me talk to him."
A cold, familiar female voice echoed faintly.
Tap, tap.
The crowd parted as the sharp clicks of high heels drew closer.
A beautiful woman with a glossy golden ponytail and indigo eyes walked gracefully toward him through the light and shadow.
"David. Can you hear me?"
The woman spoke gently.
David's unfocused pupils contracted as his gaze cleared in an instant.
"V–Vela... Commander, cough, cough, cough!Hack... cough!"
The woman who had changed the fate of the Martinez family—their benefactor and his personal idol—stood before him. Overcome with emotion, David's frail body convulsed with harsh coughs.
"Phew."
His breathing grew heavy. In a rough voice, he said, "Commander, I—I didn't let SAT-6 down!"
"I know."
Vela's eyes carried a hint of satisfaction, her tone both warm and composed. "That's why I came. Your contributions—to Arasaka's prosperity, and to my strategies—are beyond doubt. You've done well."
They had shared classrooms, carried rifles side by side, divided spoils, fought battles, bled, and survived death together. The sense of camaraderie and pride from the Arasaka Security Academy's faction was etched deeply into David's identity.
This was far more effective than if Vela had simply kept him by her side as a personal bodyguard for training.
After all, she was too busy—and too disinterested—to play the role of a caring mentor. Occasional words of guidance were more than enough.
"I'll make sure you recover," Vela said softly. "But reclaiming your honor—that, you must do yourself."
"Really?"
On the medical bed, David lowered his head. Using the angle of the backboard for support, he finally saw the state of his body: nothing but a torso.
And that was the least of the damage.
The real issue was the degeneration of his nervous system.
Sustained overclocking of his military-grade Sandevistan—while under debuffs, even with immunosuppressants depleted—had pushed his body beyond its limits.
Lazarus' powered armor soldiers weren't some street punks. Their built-in net-attack modules clung to the system like leeches, forcing David's ICE to operate at its absolute peak.
He wasn't a rookie anymore. As he focused his thoughts, the discomfort and stinging pain in his head and behind his eyes became clearer. He realized—his neurons' tolerance for combat cyberware had likely dropped a full grade.
Even if Arasaka had the means to heal him, did a mere grunt like him qualify to receive such treatment? After all, he'd only served just over a year.
"This is what you've earned."
Vela smiled faintly, her tone confident. "Now let me reward you. Speak your wish."
His mouth moved faster than his mind. Almost instinctively, David blurted, "I want to be a powered armor pilot."
His eyes burned with passion—the fire of Santa Fe—filled with longing and resolve.
"Very well."
Vela's voice was calm. She wasn't surprised by his desire to 'pilot a Gundam.' "When you wake again, you'll be reborn."
With that, she turned her head. "Prepare for surgery."
"Yes, ma'am!"
Thud—
The medical bed was pushed away.
Click. The operating room doors closed slowly. As the sedatives and anesthesia entered his veins, David drifted back into unconsciousness.
...
Observation Room, behind the isolation glass of the surgical ward.
"David?"
Lucy—an Arasaka-born 'second generation' and a reserve cadre—arched a brow in surprise.
Seeing a familiar face here, she was both shocked and puzzled.
"SAT-6."
Standing straight with her hands clasped neatly before her, V sensed Lucy's confusion and explained softly, "On the Santa Fe front. They were the first to clash with New America's troops and the Lazarus mercenaries."
"Your friend has a clean background," Vela said calmly. "The Board selected him as a model war hero. He's had a stroke of luck. Oh, and Song So Mi—she's the one they escorted back."
At those words, Lucy slightly tilted her head toward Song So Mi.
"I remember him."
Song So Mi nodded and stepped forward to stand just behind Vela's side.
"In the Garcia Restaurant parking lot—he's the one who took out the Voodoo Boys' 'Neptune' and the FIA's supply exchange vehicle. His task at the time was probably to intercept and hold back reinforcements... his Sandevistan skills were impressive."
Her tone carried a trace of reminiscence.
"Otherwise, he wouldn't have survived against the Lazarus powered armor squad."
Vela nodded in acknowledgment.
Lucy fell into thoughtful silence.
At that moment, footsteps approached.
A tall, broad-shouldered white man with a buzz cut, rugged features, and a fierce aura entered the room, the marks of combat cyberware clearly visible along his neck.
"Director Jimmy."
Seeing him, Vela immediately stepped forward.
Jimmy Warren—Vela's former assistant adjutant during her SAT days—now served as Director of the Special Operations Division and the direct superior of the Counter-Intelligence Department.
He had been stationed in Sacramento for some time, overseeing the suppression of FIA and Militech intelligence networks along the West Coast, based on information provided by Song So Mi.
His arrival here could only mean he had come specifically to deliver his report in person.
"V."
A curt nod was his greeting.
Jimmy's sharp gaze swept across Vela, the Bay Area branch executives, Lucy, and Song So Mi, finally resting on the latter. The half-cyberized killer's eyes narrowed, turning razor-sharp.
"Thank you for the intel, Miss Song."
He extended his hand.
"No need. Mutual benefit."
A brief handshake, then Song So Mi shifted her gaze toward the surgical room. "I've already gotten what I came for."
She had no intention of playing social games with Jimmy—just as his thinly veiled distrust of her was clear as day.
Vela and Jimmy often played the classic good-cop, bad-cop routine. She'd dealt with the 'good cop' Vela; that was enough. As for Vela herself—Song So Mi never dared expect anything. Vela was the judge, and judges rarely entered the arena.
When she did, it was only to strike directly at the heart.
Just like this surgery.
Ignoring Jimmy's glare—one that all but said, I'm watching you—Song So Mi fixed her eyes on Vela, who had already changed into surgical scrubs and was adjusting instruments, preparing new cybernetic components and biological modules.
To fundamentally repair damage to the nervous system—without leaving irreversible side effects?
Expectation gleamed in Song So Mi's eyes.
...
Clang.
The shadowless lamp above the operating table flicked on.
"Better than expected," Vela murmured, sliding through her PDA as she reviewed the neural scans, "but the deep neural degeneration is irreversible. Yet the subject's reflexes show little delay—born dull, perhaps?"
She cast one final glance at the BIS monitor.
The bispectral index hovered steadily between 55 and 45, confirming that the patient was fully anesthetized.
Everything normal. Begin.
Setting the PDA aside, Vela pulled on protective gloves and attached her surgical assistant exo-arms.
"Begin recording. Log entry—2077/4/25, Integrated Corporate Enhanced Soldier Reconstruction Surgery."
Beep-beep.
Surgical AI: [Recording initiated.]
—[OPERATION IN PROGRESS]—
The warning light above the door turned red.
...
In the tranquil darkness, David wanted only to lie still.
To think of nothing, to do nothing.
Just drifting, sinking, carried away by the deep subconscious current.
But the things one cares about always find their way back.
What one thinks of, one dreams of.
Whooosh—!
Blood and fire.
The steel giants of the Allied Forces, drenched in divine blood, came charging at him.
Grinning savagely, they tore off his arms, crushed his knees, shattered his bones.
Then stomped him mercilessly into the ashes.
He could only watch helplessly.
Watched as even more monstrous, blackened war machines crushed everything.
The scene froze.
David longed deeply.
If only I could pilot powered armor too...
Then—
A figure appeared before him.
Radiant and commanding, eyes fierce with power and dominance.
"You can."
It was both a response—and a promise.
I want to pilot powered armor! That thought burned within David's mind.
...
"Readings are spiking—patient's emotional response intensifying."
An assistant cybernetic surgeon reported.
"I see it. Everything's within expected range."
The dim, crystalline blue light in Vela's eyes shimmered continuously as she activated her Geass-assisted surgery system, restructuring the neural pathways and maintaining David's neurons at an elevated level of activity—all while her hands worked with tireless precision.
The Geass of the cyber world could never compare to that of the Code Geass world, but Geass was far from a useless concept. With the right study, its applications were many.
Craniotomy. She began with a microinjection of the DNA-based regenerative serum and the R-618 'Rebirth' Compound. Monitoring the neural scanner's live parameters, she precisely interfered with and optimized synaptic signaling.
Then, utilizing the metabolic enhancement properties of the Progenitor Virus derivative, she strengthened David's neural endurance—his brain's capacity for posthuman integration.
Roughly forty minutes later—
[Neural System Scan: Neurons—normal. Synapses—normal...]
The neural repair phase was complete—and significantly improved.
Over a dozen cybernetic surgeons stood by, clutching their PDAs as they recorded the results.
Vela lifted her head, stretching her neck slightly. Her expression showed no hint of fatigue.
A basic repair operation didn't need to be this complex or precise—but she was teaching. Her demonstration was meticulous.
After all, this was part of strengthening Arasaka's foundation.
Her Arasaka.
And that distinction mattered.
As for holding back knowledge out of fear that her pupils might one day surpass her?
Unnecessary.
Geass itself was her greatest difference.
By maintaining just the right degree of neural activation in the patient while continuously adjusting feedback, she maximized the effectiveness of every compound—something no other surgeon could yet replicate. Not now.
Even if others followed the same surgical procedure and used identical compounds, the results would differ vastly.
This surgery depended on the surgeon. If one's skill was merely competent, it could at least prevent further neural degradation—but true recovery depended entirely on mastery and experience.
Ding.
AI: [#No.1 – Damaged Neural System Repair Surgery Template recorded.]
"Classify it," Vela instructed calmly, stepping aside. "Continue."
AI: [#No.2 – Improved Cyberpsychosis Prevention Cyberware Implant Technique.]
Vela lowered her head again and resumed her demonstration.
This particular breakthrough drew primarily from the Ghost in the Shell world's cyberbrain technology—modified to suit cyberpunk bioengineering parameters.
By inserting a miniature integrated organ composed of receivers, sensors, and actuators between the cyberware OS and the brain interface plug, it greatly reduced the direct erosion of personality by cybernetic implants.
While it couldn't fully cure the condition, it vastly enhanced and prolonged the user's resistance threshold—an easy victory.
AI: [#No.3 – Bio-component Integration.]
Subdermal nanofiber armor, nano-medical robots, toxin-bonding agents, Quinque-type Kakuhou enhancers...
The core of this stage: Quinque-type Kakuhou augmentation.
Derived from the Tokyo Ghoul world's half-ghoul transformation and QS operations.
Unlike Kanou's early half-ghoul procedure—which caused Rc cell addiction and cannibalistic tendencies—or Kouitsu Chigyou's QS surgery that generated external Kagune predatory organs, the refined 'Quinque-type Kakuhou'—developed in collaboration between the CCG Vela and Dr. Chigyou—functioned more like a biological enhancement organ.
No hunger for flesh. No external Kagune.
It acted like a secondary heart—infusing Rc cells into the bloodstream and body fluids, enhancing regeneration, reducing internal damage, and drastically improving cyberware compatibility.
When paired with suitable combat cyberware, it achieved a synergy beyond additive effects.
Its only limitation: not suitable for fully Alpha-grade cyborg conversions.
AI: [#No.4 – Basic Cybernetic Component Installation.]
This was the simplest, most direct phase.
Any cyber-surgeon could perform it.
It all came down to the quality of the hardware and the tuning skill.
Effortlessly, Vela summoned the finest components from Arasaka North America's cyberware lab, replacing David's missing limbs and organs.
Next came the final step.
AI: [#No.5 – Integrated Calibration and Adjustment.]
This phase needed no further explanation.
"Phew."
Exhaling lightly, Vela looked at the man on the operating table—tall and strong once more, his limbs whole, his body a seamless fusion of cybernetic and biological components. "It's done. Move him to postoperative observation and wake him gradually."
She removed her gloves, tossed them aside, and took a sip of water. In a notably good mood, she said, "Next."
Since she was already here and still had time, she might as well perform a few more surgeries.
Only tending to one would seem unfair. On the Santa Fe front, it wasn't just SAT-6's newly formed N-squad that had bled for her—all were her trusted subordinates.
In war, soldiers were expendable as mud. But in peace, a commander must cherish her troops.
"SAT-2, newly reorganized M-squad—Portman."
Picking up her PDA, Vela swiftly reviewed the personnel files of those rotated out due to injuries.
Before long—click—the surgical gate slid open.
A new patient was wheeled in.
"Let's begin."
Pulling on a fresh pair of gloves, Vela asked, "Jean Portman, state your desired enhancement designation."
While Vela proceeded with her second operation, in the postoperative observation room—
Song So Mi followed closely behind the medical team.
The Arasaka shinobi guards, already informed in advance, did not stop her.
"How long until he wakes up?" she asked urgently.
"No rush," the assistant surgeon replied. "The soft wake-up protocol has been activated. In about ten minutes, he'll regain consciousness."
For David, it felt as though he had merely taken a nap.
He had dreamt—a terrible process with a satisfying ending.
Recovery had gone unexpectedly well. As his eyelids fluttered and he opened his eyes, using his long-lost hands to push himself upright, the intensified senses made the sterile scent of disinfectant sting his nose.
Before he could react, a red-haired woman rushed toward him.
Grabbing his hand, she immediately pulled out a personal link cable, attempting to connect.
David blinked in confusion.
Wait—what? Is this how they do rehab tests now? Why so intense?
Then, recognizing her face, his expression froze. "You're… Songbird…"
"It's real!" Song So Mi's voice trembled with excitement. "Your neural trauma—it's fully repaired!"
...
Evening. The city lights began to bloom.
The IN SURGERY warning sign above the operating room door finally went dark.
The fourth operation was complete.
Vela had personally overseen the recovery and reconstruction surgeries for the four most distinguished soldiers of the SAT's new units—those who had fought most bravely on the Santa Fe front.
Her gaze shifted from the last patient—a female SAT operative clad in gleaming silver-blue cybernetic armor. Removing her surgical coat and leaving only her undershirt jacket, Vela stretched her arms and neck slightly before walking calmly out of the department.
"Implementing and mass-producing the results of one's research does bring a certain satisfaction—and a sense of fulfillment," she murmured.
"Next… it's time to focus on the military."